Reunion
by RunOutOfWit
Summary: Three years after returning home, Jack is released from the London Juvenile Detention Center. Upon release, he's sure to meet up with an old friend and together they work to tie up a loose-end from the island. Rated T for mild violence.  One-shot.


_AN: I wrote this story four years ago after we read Lord of the Flies in school. It was for a project. It is _definitely_ not the best thing. I do understand that a couple situations are a bit hokey and unbelievable, but I still thought it'd be nice to put it up here and share. I hope you guys enjoy. _

A red-haired adolescent walked through the halls of the juvenile detention center. He listened to other boys speak to each other in low tones. His pale face was littered with freckles and wasn't the most pleasant countenance. It was harsh and toned, as if he had seen much in his nigh two decades of living. Blue eyes stayed steadily ahead as he walked through the halls. A security guard strode by his side, one hand on the boy's arm to guide him. The longer they walked, the more he couldn't help it. He smiled.

He tested the strength of the handcuffs that linked his hands behind his back. He did it every time he was put in them; it was a habit he had kept for three years. Always, he yearned for freedom. Always, he yearned to repay Him. To seek revenge.

The guard stopped in front of a thick oak door which had 'Warden' engraved on a faux gold plaque that hung just at eye level. The small guard pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs that bound the boy's wrists together. Surprised, Jack looked back at him. The guard merely nodded towards the door, and slowly, the boy walked in.

The redhead had been confined for three years. It had started almost as soon as he had come home. He remembered the few months that he and a group of other boys had spent stranded on an island. As the thoughts came back to him, he reveled in them. But then the face of a dirty, fair-haired twelve-year-old came into his mind and he scowled. He shook the thought from his mind as a man began speaking to him: the warden.

"Jack Merridew… Take a seat." He did as he was told, then continued to look intently at the absurdly hairy man as he spoke, his tone gruff and scratchy. The warden's head was full of hair with the exception of the crown, where most of it had thinned. A large gray caterpillar crawled across both of his eyes, bowing and arcing whenever he squinted or blinked. Wrinkles mottled the tan skin, giving him the appearance of an old hound dog. "Well, I never thought this day would come, I'll tell you."

The redhead looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. Was this is? Was this the day?

"I apologize, Sir. I don't quite understand." The boy said, manners impeccable as ever.

"You've been here for three years. In that time, you've come a long way. You've been honest with your counselors, you've been taking your medication, you haven't gotten into any fights; overall, you've been doing extremely well. And your sentence is up. You're going home."

A grin spread over Jack's face, though the warden wasn't able to see its true characteristics: knowledge and excitement.

"Thank you, Sir! Thank you!" Jack said, giving a broad smile.

"What can I say? You've been a good kid while you were here. You've really come a long way and I'm excited to see what you'll do in the future. You're a smart guy; you could really go places."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Your parents are coming to pick you up in about an hour, so you can go ahead and get your things, pack up, and get ready."

Jack nodded happily, and then stood. He bowed slightly to the warden, and then looked up at the bear of a man.

"Don't disappoint me." The man said.

"Oh, don't worry, Sir. I won't."

As Jack was packing the few things he had in 'his' room, he began thinking of how he'd gotten there. His soft smile turned into a frown , then a sigh as he closed the backpack.

When he and the other boys had gotten back to England, by then they- not him, of course, the other boys- had told the naval captain that had found them everything. They had told him about the murders, the hunting, the beast- everything. Which put the spotlight on Jack.

He and the other boys had been taken to the nearest police station, where most of their parents had been contacted; some of the younger kids had forgotten their names and where they'd lived due to being on the island for so long. Jack's parents had come and then he had to talk to a police officer. Of course, he was forced to attend scheduled meetings with a shrink, but he didn't like that idea. Soon, the lack of power got to him, and he began hurting those who weren't listening or heeding him—even his mother.

And that was what had landed him here: London's Juvenile Detention Center. The doctors said that his aggressiveness was post-traumatic stress from the island and watching two of the boys on the island die. They all thought him so innocent. So, the judge had been lenient on him. All he got for "attempted pre-meditated murder" was a new psychologist, more medications, and three years in the Detention Center with a regular analysis of his 'mental health.'

He looked up as there was a sharp knocking on the door and grabbed his back pack, swinging it over one shoulder. He walked out of the cell, nodded to the guard, then looked around. A grim-looking, middle-aged man stood at the end of the hall, talking with the warden. The guard nodded for Jack to go to them, and the young man advanced.

Jack watched the older man carefully, taking into account his features. The man was tall and looked much like the adolescent, though the red in his hair was full of gray and was thinning in patches. The man didn't dare a glance at Jack, but as soon as the redhead was within earshot, the man stopped talking abruptly.

"Hello, Father." Jack said, his voice a monotone.

The older man simply nodded.

"I already filled out the paperwork. Come on; we're going home," the man said, his voice bleak.

Jack nodded and the two left in silence. Jack analyzed his father's behavior with bemusement. He was still sour about Jack's attempt at murdering the wench called 'mother'? Jack suppressed shaking his head. She should have just listened to him. Then she wouldn't have gotten hurt. It wasn't _his _fault.

The two left the detention center and stopped in front of his father's car. The father stared at the ground for a second, then looked up. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jack interrupted him.

"Don't bother, Father. My eighteenth birthday is in four days. I'll leave today just to save you problems. Just drop me off at a gas station with a few pounds and I have a friend who said I could stay with him."

Unsurprisingly, his father didn't reject the offer. He nodded and got into the car. Half an hour later, Jack stood with his suitcase at a small gas station, pushing coins into the slot of a pay phone. He smirked as he held the phone to his ear, listening intently.

"Hello?" a voice on the other end answered. The voice was deeper than Jack had remembered, but he hadn't seen him in so long…

"Well, I haven't spoken to you in awhile" Jack smirked, "It's good to speak to you, Roger."

A fair-haired boy walked the streets of London, huddled inside of his jacket. His eyes were closed and what could have been a handsome face was stricken with a tone of grief and despair. The boy stopped at the end of the street and his eyes finally opened. They were striking blue and showed a depth in them strange for a fifteen-year-old. The boy looked up at the night sky, watching dark clouds drift in front of the moon and slowly disappear. He let out a soft sigh, and then shook his head, crossing the empty street.

Even after the years of being away from the island, the nightmares of the past had yet to leave him. It was obvious that the boy didn't get much sleep; dark circles were under his eyes and his once fair skin was dotted with blemishes from stress. He was of average height and very thin, hardly any meat on his bones. What once had been a healthy face was pale and gaunt. He certainly didn't look like the average teenager.

The boy made his way home, bracing himself against the harsh cold. Flakes of white crystal floated down from the sky, beginning to cover the ground. By the time he got home, the boy was wet from snow. The house he entered was a typical two-story house. It looked a bit older, though, with a fading black roof and vines crawling up the side. He took in a large breath before walking in, being greeted by the warmth of his home.

"Oh, Ralph! You're home!" a woman praised, standing up quickly from the living room. The fizzy sounds of the television were barely audible and light could be seen coming from it.

The woman was just a bit shorter than Ralph. Her hair was long, curly blonde and her eyes were light brown and cheerful. As she approached her son, she looked almost the exact opposite of him. She was healthy, bright, and cheerful while he seemed ill and dark. The woman embraced Ralph tightly, smiling as she kissed him on the head. She grabbed his hand and then led him into the living room. She sat in a plush chair, then turned the television off, looking at her son who was taking a seat on the floor.

"So, how was school?" she asked.

Ralph shrugged. "It was all right. Nothing that important happened." He said.

"Did you…" She stopped, biting her lip, "Did you have any episodes?"

"No. It was a good day." He lied softly, plastering a believable smile onto his face.

She smiled and nodded, then leaned forward and patted her son's hand. "That's good. And you picked up your prescription?"

He nodded and pulled out a bag from his pocket, showing it to her. She smiled again, and then ruffled his hair.

"You look freezing, Deary. Why don't you go get a nice, warm shower?"

Ralph nodded. Maybe a shower would relieve him from his visions.

About an hour later, Ralph was laying on his bed. He was curled up beneath the sheets, huddled there in a warm heap. He stared at the bottle of pills on his bedside table. His eyes went over the orange translucent shell of the bottle, then to the small white pills inside. He reached over and grabbed the bottle. He took one of the pills out, then closed the cap and put the bottle back. Ralph sat up, then put the pill on the table. He grabbed his lamp and pressed it on top of the pill, crushing it into a fine white powder before brushing it carefully into the garbage basket beneath the table. He let out a sigh, then ran a hand through his wet hair.

He loved his mother, he truly did, and he hated to ruin her day and get her into frenzy after one of his 'episodes'. It wasn't fair to her. And he didn't want her to know that the medicine didn't work; that would only make her feel worse. He just had to put on a smile, nod, and pretend everything was okay, even when he was watching his friends get murdered over and over and over.

Ralph tried desperately to fall asleep. When he eventually found slumber, it did not last long Five minutes into his dream, his eyes snapped open. Everything in his room was dark. He could hear the sounds of thunder and chanting. He let out a shudder of fear as he heard the words all too clearly. "_Kill the pig! Cut her throat! Spill her blood!_"

Ralph, unable to stop himself, sat up. He watched with terrified eyes as a group of young boys were gathered around a small huddled mass on a beach, stabbing at it as it whimpered and yelled about "a dead man on a hill". Then they all backed away and moonlight shone brightly at the mass. A barely breathing boy with dark hair lay in a pool of blood, wounds covering his body. The boy's hand extended towards Ralph, cold dead eyes concentrated on the teenager.

"Why did you kill me, Ralph? I was only trying to help you…"he breathed, voice desperate and pathetic.

Ralph held back a scream and wrapped his arms around his face, whimpering softly.

"I didn't . . . I didn't mean to . . . "

"Ralph . . . " Before the boy could say anymore, a wave rolled up and dragged away his body.

Once the scene had faded from the bloodied beach back to his bedroom, Ralph shakily brought the covers over his head. He was trembling violently, sweat beaded on his skin. After a few moments, Ralph's eyes opened. Fearful tears stung his eyes, but he had learned to hold them back over the years.

"Simon… Piggy… I'm so sorry…"

"Sit, Chief."

Jack immediately sat down on the ragged couch. The two were in a small apartment, where yellowed paint was peeling off of the walls and dark curtains kept any light from coming into the apartment. Jack watched as a thick, long snake slithered across the floor in front of him. He became rigid as it slithered over his feet, and then he looked up at the boy that sat in an armchair.

The adolescent looked only a year younger than Jack, though a certain sadistic menace was in his dark eyes. His skin was pale and fair, and his dark hair was straight and fell a bit past his ears. He was tall and thin, his face thinner than most. Jack remembered being trapped on the island with this boy. He was the only person on the island Jack had feared and the only person who had been completely loyal to Jack. That dark, uncaring look in the boy's eyes, the lack of a conscious; it scared everyone he came into contact with. But why had he been so keen on staying by Jack's side?

"You don't live with your parents, Roger?" Jack asked, looking around, thankful when the snake slithered off of his feet.

Roger gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head. He put his elbow on the arm rest and leaned his head on his hand.

"I moved out as soon as I could. It's not like I didn't have them acting on my every whim, anyway," the boy replied. Jack gave a slow nod, wondering what it had been like for Roger at home. Were even his parents fearful of him? "Now, Jack, you were very vague on the phone. What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

A deep breath, and then the redhead nodded, face grim.

"Ralph," he stated.

He watched a glimmer of sadism appear in Roger's eye. "I see," he mused. "So, you still want to continue on with your plan?"

"I will follow through with it," he replied, wearing a determined countenance.

Roger hummed, tapping his cheek absentmindedly. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, then came down as he felt the thick snake crawl up the armchair, then wrap around his shoulders. He petted it with his free hand, thinking. He continued to hum softly beneath his breath, giggling slightly as the snake's tongue flickered out of its mouth, tickling his neck.

"We cannot go about this is the way we would have on the island. If someone catches us, then we'll be arrested and who _knows_ when we'll be able to get out again. Did you think of any ideas while you were in the Detention Center?"

Jack looked up and nodded, trying to keep his eyes away from the snake that looked so perfect next to Roger.

"Yes, I came up with a few plans."

When Jack had finished explaining his ideas, the two decided on a course of action. Roger had a look of cruel excitement.

"We'll find him tomorrow and carry it out. I will follow by your side, Chief."

Jack nodded, feeling more confident now. The two of them would take down Ralph and show him what happens to those who choose to defy Jack Merridew.

A few days later, Ralph was walking back to his home from school. He hadn't had an episode in a few days. He was feeling a bit more confident, though he was still nervous. Hallucinations had plagued him since he had come back from the island. The nightmares of his past continually haunted him. He was continually forced to relive the deaths of his friends Piggy and Simon, to relive the hunt that would surely have been his end. He knew that the visions weren't real. He knew that the voices he heard weren't real. But whenever they came to him, all reason and logic left him. Nothing made sense except for one thing: fear.

Once his mother had realized that he was having these episodes, he'd been immediately taken to the local hospital. His mother was a mess for months after that, having to deal with Ralph letting out screams every night as he watched Piggy be crushed or Simon's mutilated body be stabbed over and over.

Ralph shuddered slightly, trying to ignore the shivers running down his back. For the past day, he had felt like he was being watched. It was an odd feeling, but familiar. He was used to it and he had to just continue to tell himself that it was all in his mind.

He turned onto his street and froze, seeing all of the streetlights out. A power line was hanging uselessly, nearly touching the ground. The blonde gulped, shuddering slightly. The entire block was pitch black, the only light being around the edges of the block where light was streaming from the surrounding areas.

Ralph began tentatively down the street, feeling like ants were crawling all over his body... Or flies. He shuddered at the thought of flies. They reminded him of the island. Of the pig's head. Of Jack. The blonde took in a deep breath and forced himself to keep walking. He felt a shudder of fear and stopped. It was like when he was about to go into one of his episodes. But it was different this time . . . Something felt different.

_Bang!_

Ralph yelped and jumped away from the alley next to him, his eyes wide with fear. He looked down it, taking a step back before watching a cat trot away from a tipped over garbage can. The boy exhaled, then felt cold metal against his throat.

"Hello, Ralph..." he heard a sickly familiar voice whisper.

Ralph's heart began to race. He'd never had an episode like this. Never. He normally couldn't feel things this well... He felt the man behind him press against him, holding him tightly so that he couldn't squirm away. Another figure began walking down the alley, another all-too-familiar knife lingering in its hand. He watched as the familiar redhead emerged, a dark smile on his face.

"Long time, no see." Jack grinned.

Ralph was frozen in shock. What should he do? What could he do? If this was actually just an episode, he could turn and run away... But sanity and reason were beginning to drain away from him. Everything else around him faded away with the exception of Jack, who soon appeared younger, though the newly strengthened cruelty stayed with him. Red, black, and white paint was on the teen's face and scarred body.

"Th... This isn't real..." Ralph whispered, his eyes closing, "This isn't real! It's just my imagination again!"

He felt the figure shrug behind him, but never opened his eyes. He had to make his mind realize it wasn't real. He had to know that it was his imagination and nothing more. But something told him that he was lying to himself.

"I heard you went crazy after the incident at the island, Ralph. I'm not surprised. The weak always give into sickness. Only people like Roger and I are strong enough to resist things like that."

"You're not real!" Ralph said loudly, calmly, his eyes opening and showing a deep, brooding fear within them.

"Chief, would you like the honors?" Roger asked, his voice a sadistic purr. "I would like a stab at him as well, if you don't mind."

Jack found it a bit odd that Roger, even after all of these years, still called him 'Chief'. Roger had said that he had actually met a few more of the people that had been on the island, including one, Robert, that Jack had had beaten as to set an example for the others what would happen if they disobeyed him. It had actually worked quite well. Apparently he was still scared of Roger, though Jack didn't blame him.

Ralph shuddered as Roger placed the knife harsher against his neck, almost thankful of Jack for shaking his head.

"You can have him later. Right now, he's mine." Jack said firmly.

"As you wish."

Roger pushed Ralph towards Jack, causing the boy to stumble and fall to the ground at Jack's feet. The fair-haired teenager was shaking terribly as he slowly looked up, a pleading look in his eyes. His hands curled up into fists, dirt clenched in his hands and digging beneath his nails. Ralph shook his head slowly, still in disbelief.

"I… I don't believe this…" He murmured, "This isn't happening. I don't belie-" He let out a gasp as he was shoved onto the harsh ground, feeling a foot pushing him down, grinding his body into the concrete.

"Chief, go on and get it over with. We don't have much time," Roger urged, a hint of irritation in his voice.

Jack nodded slightly, holding back a snarl. He crouched and looked down at Ralph. He put the edge of his knife at Ralph's nose, watching him carefully.

"I hate you so much…" Jack hissed, his eyes trained on the younger boy, "You're the reason I screwed up. You're the reason my life is horrible. And once I get rid of you, life will be okay again."

Roger smiled softly, dark eyes going over what he could see of Ralph's frightened, incredulous face. His eyes then went slowly up to Jack, egging him on to do it, to get it over with, a bloodthirsty look in his savage eyes. Jack nodded slightly, then nicked the tip of Ralph's nose, making a small incision. Ralph flinched, then felt his face rammed into harsh concrete.

"I'll kill you just like I killed those pigs!" Jack snarled, and raised his knife.

Ralph went rigid, waiting for the impact of the blade. Before it could happen, though, his eyes opened and he saw the tint of red and blue lights on Jack's face. The foot that had been holding him fast to the ground was removed. Jack and Roger exchanged looks

"This will have to wait for another day, Chief," Roger said.

Jack appeared hesitant, but the two of them nodded before quickly leaving, darting down the dark alley they had come from. Ralph sat up slowly, his hand coming up to his nose, trying to stop the bleeding. Not only was it bleeding from the cut, but the impact of his face hitting the concrete had caused his nose to be jarred. He sat, watching as light began to come back. He turned around slowly, getting up as carefully as possible. A police officer came over to him and knelt down.

"Are you all right, Son?" the older man asked, helping the boy up.

Ralph shook his head, shaking terribly.

"They came back… They came back…"

All the nightmares… All the traumas… He had thought that once he left the island that they would all disappear: his enemies, his nightmares, his guilt. He thought that they would all leave. But this night had proved otherwise. Things were never going to be the same for him. He wasn't going to be able to see a little black-haired kid without thinking of Simon. He wouldn't see oceans or seas the same way again. Everything was changed for him, and there was no going back to the way things once were.


End file.
